Mysterious Scars
by Psycho-Stories-Unlimited
Summary: I wake up with a burning in my limbs that i know didn't come from fighting or training. And my dreams are nothing but madness and dark blades.


**Authors Note: Follows the anime plot line rather than the manga. **

**Anyone got a problem with that? **

…

**I thought so… **

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Scars -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Sometimes…

I wake up, from dreams of fire and madness, my heart beating wildly in my chest and a strange burning just under my skin, and an ache in my bones that I know didn't come from training or fighting.

Flipping the lights on, I walk into the bathroom. The perfume from Blair's last bubble bath is still heavy in the air, and the steam the clung to everything made me feel as though I were walking in a dream.

"Must have scratched myself in my sleep again…" I mutter as I look down at myself. Mysterious scars on my arms, my legs. I trace my finger long one; it's thin and shallow, not like a nail mark at all. They look more as though I had tried to play twister with Soul in his scythe form.

It doesn't happen often, especially not since I had chosen Soul as my partner.

But I remembered as a small girl. I'd wake up from nightmares. Nightmares of twisted blades and darkness, I'd wake with my arms and legs aching, as if something were trying to stretch them from the inside.

Mama and Papa would come into the room when they heard me cry. Mama would hold me, and I would feel her warmth and the gentle touch of her soul. Papa would be there, strong and safe. That's when they first saw the small mysterious scars.

Later, Mama and Papa sat me down. Mama stared at me for a long time, as though trying to see inside me, she stared and stared and then sighed with a hint of frustration.

"I don't see… Still, just give it a shot."

Papa looked at me too, he took one of my hands, then spoke.

"Hold out your hand in front of you." He said

"Like this?" I said, waving a small hand energetically in the air.

He smiled, "yes, just like that, only don't wave it around so much, if this means what I think it means you might not want to wave that around."

I stopped, staring curiously at my hand.

"Now I need you to imagine," He said, "Imagine something strong, something unbreakable, like steel."

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate.

"Have you got that image?"

"Yeah."

"Good, now I want you to imagine that inside of you, in every part of you, ready to spring out, making you strong from the inside."

I imagined it, imagined the feeling of something strong, something sharp. Something I've seen before. An image of a glittering black blade popped into my mind, clearer than ever. Something in my stomach seemed to spark, and there was another spark quickly after.

I heard a startled sound and I opened my eyes to see my dad real back, one of his arms turned into a blade.

"Papa!" I squealed "Your arm!"

I'd seen my father transform before, but mom had forbidden it in the house and so he rarely did it except for when they trained.

"Well," Said papa with a sigh, "Looks like she's got more of her mother in her blood."

"Looks like it." Said mama proudly

Years later,

Mama was no longer around, so I trained, trained to make that spark of energy stronger, make it louder. But none of the other weapons seemed to have that spark. None of them seemed to want to get too close. But there was one soul, one spark that answered back.

I had chosen to wear gloves with the long coat the swished around my ankles, the badge that read "Meister" dangling from my lapel. There was one last person I had not asked, one who approached no one, but somehow called out.

He sat at an old piano, pressing keys at random, I tried to get his attention, but he seemed indifferent, When I reached out to tap him on the shoulder. But he turned suddenly. I pulled my hand back. The sleeve of the slightly too-large coat slipped down a few inches to reveal some of the scratches from the night before.

Something flickered in his eyes, he looked at my arm, then at the tag hanging from my coat and then at my face. He shrugged and grinned, a cocky, arrogant expression shaded with the barest hint of curiosity.

He did not speak, except to ask me to listen. He played his melody, his spark turned to sound.

We shook hands, skin to skin, sealing the deal, for the first time in a long time, letting my spark answer someone else's

From then on we use that spark to collect tainted souls, watching the red and black blade flash in the moonlight, feeling spark suddenly ignite into a torrent of energy as the Witch Hunter slashed through the night with the power of our wavelength.

Now though, I've failed, although most of my own scars heal, Soul will have his forever. He's plagued by nightmares, and even I start dreaming too. Strange dreams I couldn't really remember, Dreams of the twisted blades again, something slithering among them, staring, speaking crazed words in my ears. But all the darkness is swept away by the cleansing wavelength and the light of the morning.

Everything, except for the steel and the scars.

All I've done up until now,

Everything,

To protect them, to keep them safe

My partner, my friends,

I'm not afraid, even when the blast of energy barrels at me.

There's only darkness after that, darkness and a dull ache, electric sparks running through my bones. My dreams are random, confused, and completely silent. I'm floundering in a sea of darkness and twisted blades, but I fight to stay afloat.

A scream breaks the silence, my eyes shoot open, my lungs burning with one piercing note of agony. I'm still surrounded by twisted metal around the face of Asura, standing over me with a mad smile as bones in my shoulder crackle and pop with the force of his grip.

He still whispers words, words of madness and despair.

I listen, can't help it.

"I'll be ok then…" I say

He seems confused. The steel inside me, the spark, they react,

All of those things, special techniques, insurmountable strength, the powers of death, they all meant nothing if you didn't have courage.

The madness shatters in an explosion of light, showering us in hope and the light of a new day.

All of the darkness is washed away.

But there are still more scars after that, night after night, waking up tingling just under my skin.

I splash water on my face, then look in the mirror again, think about something strong, something inside me just waiting to come out. I never really knew what papa had meant when he had told me that. It was probably something I'd have to figure out for myself..


End file.
